


Dominance

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Ficlet, The Quidditch Pitch: The Dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-03
Updated: 2006-01-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: Harry gives Sev a birthday present





	Dominance

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Hope you like your birthday present [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=madam_minnie)[**madam_minnie**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/madam_minnie/)! Kinda betad by [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=stick_around)[](http://www.livejournal.com/users/stick_around/)**stick_around**. (well, she read it and didn  


* * *

The rough scrape of the blindfold against his face is almost enough to set him off. He arches his body, straining to reach for the stiff fabric.  
  
“Do you really want me to stop?” the voice purrs, like thick honey falling off a spoon. He freezes instantly. “Good,” the voice continues. “I want to see you lie there, helpless to do anything while I tease you and make you wish your sweet torment was over.”  
  
Fingers stroke his stomach, and he feels a tongue snake into his belly button. The tongue is spiralling outward, teasing and leaving little marks of possession as it passes. He pulls against the invisible restraints that are holding him spread-eagled. The other man pauses. He can feel his smile against the suddenly sensitive skin of his chest. “Impatient, aren’t you?”  
  
The hand on his nipple drops to his cock. It’s warm, and slick. He closes his eyes behind the blindfold and concentrates on the sensations spilling upward from the warmth enclosing him.  
  
He begins to pant, inhaling and exhaling just a little bit faster. The hand on his cock is removed. “Shameful. I’ve told you before I will not tolerate you coming first.”  
  
“Yes, Master,” he manages to breathe through gritted teeth, as he struggles for control.  
  
The hand descends once more. This time, there is some kind of cooling potion on it, and the change in sensation against his overheated cock is nearly too much.  
  
Suddenly, a tight oiled heat descends over his cock. He can feel the weight of the other man riding him, leaning against his chest. He’s so tight; it is all the blindfolded man can do to hold himself back from the edge.  
  
The bonds encasing his wrists fall away, and he’s encouraged to stroke the other man’s cock, embraced between their bodies.  
  
He uses the drop of precum on the tip to lubricate his strokes, and then licks his fingers. The other man groans and rides him harder at the sight.  
  
What a picture they make, in the dim silence of the room. A young man, his legs held apart by invisible bonds, hair in a tangled sweaty mass on the pillow. His green eyes are shut tightly behind a black blindfold. Riding his cock, leaning forward on his pale chest is an older man, whose dark hair falls around his face, hiding his look of possession. The scars on this man’s back seem out of place on such creamy pale skin. His hands, currently plucking at the younger man’s puckered nipples, are long fingered and elegant. The only noise in the room is the harsh panting of the older man and the soft indistinct cries of the other.  
  
Both come at once, unable to control themselves any longer. The older man rolls off the blindfolded man, and mutters a cleaning charm.  
  
  
The younger man speaks into the silence. “I hope you liked your birthday present.”

He reaches up to undo the blindfold, and find the older man’s hands already there. Their fingers entangle in the sweaty dampness of his hair.  
  
“With you, Harry, I enjoy every minute,” the older man whispers into his ear, gathering the younger man into his arms. “Every minute.”  
  
Only the ceiling is witness to the tear sliding down his cheek.


End file.
